


Dressed Like a King

by Raven_WritingDesk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: "Holy" by King Princess, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Check Ins, Confident Draco Malfoy, Consent, Cursebreaker Draco Malfoy, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub, Dominant Draco Malfoy, Drarry, Established Relationship, Formalwear, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry needs a cold shower asap, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Safe Sane and Consensual, Songfic, Submissive Harry Potter, Suits, There's legit only 700 words of plot, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_WritingDesk/pseuds/Raven_WritingDesk
Summary: Honey, on your knees when you look at meI'm dressed like a fucking queenand you're begging, "please"I rule with the velvet tongueAnd my dress undoneAnd I'll get you lostbut I'm having funSeeing Draco dressed up for Ministry meetingsdoes thingsto Harry. He can't help himself. Draco, being the attentive lover that he is, gives him what he wants.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 312





	Dressed Like a King

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I didn't intend for it to go this direction, but here it is. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! <3

The time is 8:58 in the morning and Harry sits at a long table in a conference room at the Ministry. Kingsley Shacklebolt, their Minister for Magic of two years, had called a meeting of a select few members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Kingsley himself, Harry, Ron, and another pair of Aurors. And Draco, who is standing at the head of the table, leafing through a file. The rest of them have matching files in front of them. 

Draco glances at his watch, and determines it time to begin. 

"If you would all open your case files to the first page, we can begin."

A small shiver goes through Harry at Dracos confident tone. Dressed in a well fitted, all black suit, combined with his height and demeanor, he takes complete command of the room. There was something about the combination of all of these that made Harry hot under his collar. His eyes roamed Draco’s form hungrily; his long, slender form held a level of grace Harry had never been able to attain, but was still strong as Harry knew from experience. Experience such as the power behind Draco’s hand raining blows down on Harry’s arse, of Draco holding Harry’s wrists above his head while he fucked him. Harry also knew from watching Draco walk to the Floo at Grimmauld Place that morning that the pants Draco wore, while not tight, accentuated his arse beautifully.

These thoughts served to distract Harry from the words falling from his lover’s lips as he walked the group through a rash of cursings that had occured. 

“Potter.”

Harry snaps back to reality. Draco leans his knuckles on the tabletop, silver gaze aimed at Harry. The corner of his mouth, as well as a perfectly sculpted brow, twitch imperceptibly to anyone but Harry. He knew Draco would see the dilation of his pupils.

Draco insisted on them calling each other by their surnames while at work. _It’s basic professionalism, Harry_ he’d said, _Plus, I don’t need our colleagues reminded that we’re fucking every time I refer to only you by first name._ Harry had blushed furiously at Draco’s casual tone. 

“I’m will need you and Weasley to accompany me into the residence and watch my back while I unravel the curses that will no doubt be superfluous in number. Rhodes and Blunt,” his eyes leave Harry, “If you would remain outside to secure the perimeter and be on stand-by if it turns out to be an ambush.” The two Aurors nod easily; they know that even though Draco is not an Auror, he is the most skilled Cursebreaker at the Ministry and this is his mission. 

Being forced to take the Mark was the worst moment of his life, Draco had told Harry, but strangely enough it’s dark magic allowed him better access to the magic that made up the fabric of curses. _Like calls to like,_ he shrugged, _the curse’s magic doesn’t see me as a threat._

These curses, like the ones this case is centered around, can be some of the more destructive ones the DMLE had seen since Voldemort’s defeat several years earlier. And not destructive of property, but of human life; flesh melting from bone as the victims passed through cursed passages being a less graphic example. Their purpose was simple: terrify the masses and upset the peace that had become the new norm. 

Aurors had located a house where they believed the perpetrators of these atrocities were located. There was one problem: unless they wished to perish horribly, the Aurors couldn’t infiltrate it on their own. That’s why Draco would be leading their raid in two days time. 

The remainder of the meeting saw Harry attempting to focus on Draco’s words and not his physique. Even when his jacket stretched across his chest as he paced, hands clasped behind his back. Even when he gestured with his large, long-fingered hands that Harry longs to feel on him. There wasn’t a single part of Draco that doesn’t cause arousal to boil in Harry’s abdomen.

*

Draco leaves the Ministry before Harry that evening. Harry glances anxiously at the clock on the wall in front of Ron and his desks and taps his booted foot. Ron must have noticed. _If you want to get home to Malfoy so badly, mate, just go. You’re making me nervous, fidgeting like that._

Harry has to consciously force himself not to run to the Floos on the main floor, not wanting to cause a fuss; when Harry Potter ran, the shit was hitting the proverbial fan. He steps out into the parlor at Grimmauld and deposits his robes and boots in their designated locations. 

“You were very naughty during this morning’s meeting,” a low voice admonishes from behind him. 

Harry jumps and whirls around; Draco is sitting in a high-backed armchair, looking down at the pages of _The Prophet_. He is perfectly relaxed, left ankle crossed over right knee. He didn’t change out of his suit. 

Harry feels his heartbeat kick up as it always does when Draco uses that tone with him. 

Draco flips the paper closed, folding it neatly before setting it on the coffee table. Only then do his eyes settle on Harry. 

“You were clearly distracted by something, _what_ could it have been, I wonder?” He props his chin on his fist which tilts it up just enough that Harry feels that Draco is looking down at _him_ , not the other way around. 

Harry remains quiet; he isn’t sure if Draco’s question is rhetorical. 

It turns out that it is. Draco rises from the chair, his walk nearly a prowl as he approaches Harry. He stops when he has breached Harry’s personal space, and Harry is definitely the one being looked down at now. He’s always liked the height difference between them, it makes him feel small, not in control. Draco’s gaze is intense and Harry finds he can only hold it for a few seconds before he has to look away. Draco takes the opportunity to lean in and whisper in his ear.

“ _I_ think you were letting your cock do the thinking instead of paying attention to my very important case briefing.” 

Harry’s breathing turns heavy and a blush spreads across his cheeks. 

“Hmmm, am I right? What was it thinking about, Harry? Was it imagining you on your knees in front of me, mouth stuffed full? You do so like the taste of cock,” Draco nips the shell of Harry’s ear, resulting in a full-body shudder, “What had your mind in the gutter, then? I have an idea, considering the way you were eye-fucking me over breakfast when you saw what I was wearing.” 

Draco knew it was the suit. Of _course_ he did. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and fails to stifle a whine.

“Color, love?” Draco’s voice turns soft. He knows Harry craves this, their power exchange, but always checks if Harry’s on board in the moment. 

“Green,” Harry pants.

There’s a hum and suddenly they are standing in their bedroom. Draco leaves Harry’s space, stepping back several paces. He slides his hands into his front pockets and commands, “Strip for me.”

Harry’s hands tremble as he moves to tug his shirt over his head.

“Slowly, now.”

Dropping his shirt to the floor, Harry starts on the top button on his jeans. Just as Draco told him, he takes his time popping it open, and does the same with the zipper. He shimmies his hips and pushes them down. He steps out and his hands pause at the band of his underwear. Draco’s gaze doesn’t waver and he waits, brows raised expectantly.

Harry’s hard cock bobs free, flushed with desire. Heat roars through him when Draco absently licks his lips; these momentary cracks in persona are just as arousing.

Only Draco’s eyes move, looking over every detail of Harry’s naked form. Harry barely resists the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. 

“On your knees,” Draco’s voice drops an octave. 

Harry shudders out a breath and obeys. 

Draco saunters forward so he’s close to Harry once more. His crotch is right in front of Harry’s face and he has to tilt his head back to look at Draco’s face. Draco stands there a moment, penetrating stare still fixed on Harry. Harry’s blush from earlier creeps down his chest. He can see himself in his mind’s eye: naked and on his knees in front of a fully clothed Draco. Without looking away, Draco begins to unbutton his jacket. It slides from his shoulders and he tosses it away casually. Next come his shirt buttons, but Draco purposefully takes his time with those. Harry’s mouth waters as Draco’s milky skin is revealed one centimeter at a time. He longs desperately to touch, but he knows better. After an agonizing length of time, Draco pops the last button. He moves the ends aside and unfastens his belt and pulls it, again, agonizingly slowly, from its loops. Harry’s mind flashes with images of different uses for Draco’s belt. 

Draco rests his hands on the flesh of his lean waist, his open shirt moved aside.

“Well then, Harry. Would you like to suck my cock?”

“Yes,” Harry’s voice is hungry.

“And how do we ask for what we want?”

“Please?”

“Please, what?” 

“Please may I suck your cock, Draco?”

Draco makes a pleased sound, “I love hearing my name on those gorgeous lips of yours. Very well, go ahead.”

Harry opens Draco’s trousers before leaning forward to mouth at the hot bulge. He pushes the trousers down around Draco’s ankles but only pulls the waistband of his briefs down far enough to free his hard length, leaving Draco still partially clothed. He then returns his hands to his sides; he needs permission to touch Draco further. 

Harry catches the drop of precome on the tip with his tongue and slides his mouth down Draco’s shaft. Draco’s breath leaves him in a rush. He moans as Harry makes an absolute mess sucking him off. Draco doesn’t hold any sounds back; Harry likes to know he’s pleasing Draco. 

“You may touch,” He hears after a minute. 

In a flash, Harry’s hands are stroking up the backs of Draco’s thighs, his hips, his stomach. Draco’s chest rumbles; granting permission is part of their power dynamic, but Draco loves Harry’s hands on him. 

Harry’s hands travel back down Draco’s thighs and slide up the back of his black boxer briefs. Draco’s hands are heavy on his head and he’s groaning with each exhale. Harry slips a finger between Draco’s cheeks and presses against his arsehole.

A sharp grunt from above him, then, “Now, now, you’re taking liberties you aren’t allowed, my love.”

Draco pulls Harry off his erection by the back of his hair, the sharp sting zipping down Harry’s spine. Draco tugs up, but doesn’t go as far as to drag Harry up by his hair. Harry stumbles to his feet and barely finds his balance before Draco’s hand is on his sternum, pushing him back to their bed. A pulse of magic from Draco’s palm knocks Harry onto his back. He feels like he could have come from just that display of power. 

Harry and Draco had incorporated this power exchange not long after they got together. Harry was tired of being expected to be, and sometimes actually being, the most powerful person in the room. He didn’t want to be _the Savior_ anymore. He’d fulfilled the prophecy and brought down the most dangerous wizard in history. That should have been it, but no, new obligations and expectations waited in a line miles long. 

The only person who’d never expected anything from him was Draco. He took care of Harry’s needs like no one had before and expected nothing in return. It was this attentiveness and his superior observational skills that tipped Draco off to the fact that Harry liked it _a lot_ when he didn’t have to make decisions, take the lead. Harry didn’t need it constantly, but he regularly handed the reigns to Draco.

Harry scrambles back until his back connects with the headboard, Draco climbing onto the bed after him. His briefs, trousers, socks, and shoes have vanished, though the shirt stays. He kneels between Harry’s spread legs, breathing still heavy from Harry’s attentions. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, Harry?”

Harry swallows thickly and nods, opening his mouth to respond-

“Then stretch yourself open for me.”

A wave of heat hits Harry, so intense he feels he may catch fire. Draco has pushed Harry outside his comfort zone so many times, but the one thing he can’t seem to get comfortable with is being watched doing _that_. He opens and closes his mouth, his mind oscillating between obeying and _yellow_ , which will refuse that order but not end the whole thing. 

Again, Draco softens. He smiles, not to say _do it for me?_ but _you’re in control here, no matter how it seems_. He knows what he’s asking for, and he waits as Harry makes his decision.

It’s that more than anything that makes Harry conjure a palm of lube and reach between his thighs. He sweats with arousal and anxiety as he slowly penetrates himself, working a single finger in and out before adding a second. 

There’s no hiding from Draco’s eyes as he raptly watches Harry finger himself. He closes his fist around his own prick and strokes, and he allows a temporary lapse in his persona. Draco has a voyeuristic streak in him that Harry has had a difficult time satisfying due to his embarrassment. Draco’s brow furrows slightly and his lips part, huffing out a moan when Harry adds a third finger. 

Harry slips his fingers out of himself, letting Draco know he’s ready. Draco dives forward on top of Harry, crushing their lips together. The kiss is intense, possessive, and burns Harry up from the inside. 

“You did so well, my love, thank you,” The words are whispered urgently against Harry’s lips.

Draco lines up and presses forward into Harry. This is always the most intense part and it makes Harry’s back arch off the mattress. Draco is shortly fully inside Harry, both of them panting. Draco doesn’t give him much time to adjust before he pounds into Harry. Harry doesn’t even try to contain his moans; he’s been imagining this moment since breakfast. He grasps at Draco’s shoulders, nails scratching the skin. Draco's hands are splayed on either side of Harry's head. He turns his head to the side and scrapes his teeth along Draco's pulse-point. 

"Harder," Draco growls against his temple.

Harry's next moan takes on a questioning note.

"Bite me _harder._ "

Harry could have seen that coming, he supposed. Draco was fond of the scratches Harry tended to inflict on his arms, shoulders, and back after a particularly rough session. 

Harry obeys, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Draco's wrist. Draco lets out a growl so primal that Harry feels a pulse of precum leak from his cock. Harry feels his orgasm building, heat in his abdomen, tingling in his hands and toes. He considers asking Draco if he can touch himself but decides he wants to come only from pleasure provided by Draco.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, _Harry_ ," Draco pants Harry's name against his lips like a mantra. Harry felt each utterance under his skin, zipping through him like electricity. 

"Draco," Harry is surprised at the whine that leaves his mouth, "Draco, I need..."

"I know, love," Draco rasps, "Go on, come for me."

Waves of fire and pleasure wrack Harry's body as he writhes under Draco, who continues to fuck him. Draco grips the back of Harry's neck and crushes their lips together as he stills, spilling into Harry. 

Their breath is ragged against one another's mouths as they lay still. They stay this way for several moments, Draco stroking Harry's sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. Then, carefully, he pulls out of Harry, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose before going into the adjoining bathroom. He returns with a wet cloth and slowly and thoroughly cleans the sweat and come from Harry's skin. He returns to the bathroom and Harry hears a splash from the tap. Draco settles into bed next to him, wiping water from his face. He curls himself around Harry, firmly holding Harry to his chest, the way Harry likes. Harry sighs deeply when Draco's long fingers splay across his stomach. He never feels as content and safe as he does when he's right here. 

"How are you doing?" Draco murmurs into his hair.

"'M good," Harry is drifting right on the edge of sleep.

"It wasn't too much?"

Harry's eyes blink open. He knows what Draco is referring to. He places his hand on Draco's.

"No, it wasn't. Actually, the look on your face made it more enjoyable than I expected."

There was a puff of air against the back of Harry's head, "The look on your face is exactly why I asked. You really have no idea how incredibly hot you are."

Harry huffs a laugh, "This from the man I have been undressing with my eyes all damn day."

"I'll wear a suit more often," There's a smile in his voice.

"Only if I get to rip it off of you."

"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> So Dom/Sub doesn't really fit the overall sound of the song, which is very chill. BUT the chorus lyrics could be interpreted as such. Obviously, cause I did.
> 
> Dirty fuckin' brain.


End file.
